Merely Surviving
by Atlantean Pineapple
Summary: Telemachus is experiencing dreams that challenge all most Nietzscheans believe, hosted by a mysterious voice. Soon after, he joins the crew of the Andromeda and meets a crew member who seems to know everything about him. Are the two occurrences related?
1. Prologue, The Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own Andromeda. I do not own My Dog, My Hero, from which I got 'the rule of three'. I do not own How to Cope When You Are Surrounded by Idiots, from which I got the definition of idiot.

Note: Well, I have pretty much run out of Rhade fics (or at least ones that aren't rated R) and so here I am, writing this for my own amusement, and hopefully yours.

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"_Rhade?" The voice echoed in his mind, the loud, velvety sound nearly driving him to madness._

_"What?" he growled in his sleep._

_The dream voice laughed. "I am curious about you, Nietzschean. Say you were stranded on an island. Of course, you would find food and water and build a shelter. You would survive this way, correct?"_

_The question was pointless, as always, but he answered anyway. "Yes, of course."_

_"But there is only so much the island can provide. You would have no friends, no family, and no love. But you would survive without these things, would you not?"_

_This part was new to him. It usually ended with the words "no love". "I would, easily," was his typical Nietzschean response. _

_"What about when your food is gone, and there are no living beasts nor edible substances left on your little prison? Eventually, even you will become hungry. And when you are unable to find food, you will slowly lose strength, becoming weaker day by day. Tell me, Nietzschean, would that hunger make you a failure? What about when you lose the strength to find clean water? Will your thirst make you a failure? When your shelter falls and you feel you can't even move to fix it, would that make you a failure? Would you allow your hunger and thirst and weakness to defeat you? Would you give in? Would you allow yourself to die? Because, after all, what do you have to live for? I bet you are wishing you had some of that love you so boldly claimed you could survive without."_

Telemachus Rhade's eyes flew open, his mind snapping to attention and his senses immediately alert. The dream had been assaulting his sleeping mind for weeks now, and when he awoke, his throat would burn and his stomach would beg for food. Usually, the Nietzschean slept dreamlessly, but he just couldn't seem to escape this one. The woman's voice would call his name, though he would never see her, and he would always answer, almost as if he had no choice. As for her chosen topic of conversation, well, it didn't seem all that friendly. She obviously had a good amount of knowledge of Nietzscheans, since she addressed the very thing they could not accept: failure. She also spoke of love as a necessity. Rhade remembered a passage from an ancient human novel. It read, "…the rule of three: You can go three minutes without air. You can go three hours without shelter. You can go three days without water. Three weeks without food. Three months without love." No matter what year, or how much time passed, many races still seemed to believe love was essential to existence. Rhade was far more open to the idea of love existing than most Nietzscheans, but that did not mean he thought he would die without it.

As he got to his feet, he felt immense gratitude toward whoever had invented autopilot. He pulled a container of water from a small pack not too far from the pilot's chair and drank rapidly, trying to ease the extremely unnatural burning. He had never known what it meant to be truly thirsty, and he was angry that a mere dream would bring this upon him. And the hunger! Rhade could not understand it, so he remained silent about his little problem and just kept his pack lying around with whatever he may need. He glanced back at the screen to make sure they were still clear of any danger. Satisfied, he turned back to the pack to find something to eat. As he stood, filling his raging stomach, he thought about where these visions were coming from. The woman seemed to want to prove something to him, especially with this new addition. It disturbed him that he was no longer thinking of the dreams as a natural occurrence, however rare, and had started thinking of the woman as a real person with some odd, mysterious connection to him.

Sighing loudly, Telemachus banished all thoughts of the dream from his mind and tried to focus on other things. The first topic that came to mind was his current mission, transporting the walking insult to his race, Tyr, to Tarazed. This train of thought was even more unwelcome than the last. His thoughts soon traveled to the Andromeda, and Rhade's brief collision with her crew. A short, blonde man had called him an idiot, and, presumably to prove his point, defined the word. "You know, idiot, a feeble-minded person, or in your case, Nietzschean, without the good sense God gave broccoli," he had said.

Rhade had given him a look that clearly said he was not amused and then turned to Dylan and whispered, "What is a Broccoli?" Dylan had shaken his head in an, 'it doesn't matter' sort of way. Despite the fact that for most of Dylan's visit, the two were on opposite sides, they had worked things out, and he regretted to say he missed them once they were gone. It was as if something had finally come into his life promising adventure worthy of a Nietzschean and it had left him behind. _But then again, perhaps adventure isn't far off_, Rhade thought, quickly walking back to his station when he heard a loud beeping noise, signaling another ship approaching…


	2. A Stowaway on Andromeda

Disclaimer: I do not own Andromeda.

Survival Tip #1:

_You should never attempt to lick the bottom of the blender while the blades are still turning._

_-How to Cope When You Are Surrounded by Idiots_

_By Ben Goode_

A Stowaway on Andromeda

His own race was shooting at him. Whether he was proud to associate himself with those particular Nietzscheans or not, the fact was still annoying. He knew the prison transport he was flying was no match for the Nietzschean ships, just because he was outnumbered, and he was more relieved than he would like to admit when the Andromeda appeared and came to his rescue. Not that he needed rescuing, of course. But he supposed since the big, bad battleship had scared those pathetic cowards off, he should be thankful. An image of Dylan appeared on his screen.

"Well, they say it is a small universe. Admiral Telemachus Rhade," Dylan greeted, smiling.

"Admiral on the old Tarazed, Captain Hunt. In the new Commonwealth, I'm Lieutenant Commander," Telemachus corrected him.

"Well, its good to see you, whatever the rank." Rhade smiled slightly at this. The man's attitude was definitely refreshing.

"Warm greetings to you as well, sir. You and Andromeda are a welcome surprise." No matter what his pride had to say about it, he was thankful they arrived when they had.

"Yeah, speaking of surprises. What is a Commonwealth prison transport doing out here with zero tact support?" This time it was Beka who spoke. He hadn't gotten to know her very well during their brief meeting, but the way she spoke made him feel as if she already had an opinion of him, and it wasn't a very good one. He felt the need to flaunt his worth by making his job sound extremely important… not that it wasn't in the first place. He spoke quickly so his mind would not once again stray to that disgusting topic.

"Priority nine mission. Need-to-know only. I _can_ say my destination is Tarazed." He felt he should give them something, no matter how small or obvious it may be.

Beka was not impressed, but rather pushed her point. "All the more reason for support."

Telemachus barely contained the urge to roll his eyes. Did she honestly think he, a true Nietzschean, needed a battle-fleet to transport a single prisoner? Did she seriously think him that inferior? The thought was laughable. Telemachus Rhade? Inferior? Ha! On the other hand, he had been losing a fight when they had arrived… No! Not losing, just not quite winning… Dylan was speaking again, and Rhade felt it would be best to pay attention.

"We will accompany you to Tarazed."

Rhade hurried to reply. Whether he wanted their company or not, it was his duty to decline. "Thank you, no."

A woman standing somewhere behind Dylan repeated the final word. "No?"

"I'm under strict orders. No Commonwealth ships are to be involved," he explained.

Dylan seemed to be putting things together. "Tell me about your prisoner."

Rhade was becoming edgy. He knew he had to follow orders, but he also found himself regretting not being able to speak to the captain freely. "My prisoner's identity is confidential and must remain so," he stated. Why couldn't Dylan leave it alone?

Andromeda's AI interrupted anything else the captain might have said. "Detecting multiple slipstream events. The Nietzscheans have returned with a battle fleet."

"Oh, that army." Beka said, though Rhade had no clue what she talking about. So he dismissed it and focused his attention on the approaching fleet.

"Ok, big welcome," Dylan said as the ships seemed to pop into existence on the spot. Rhade couldn't help but roll his eyes. Good captain though he was, Rhade still found him to be a bit too dramatic. Only Trance noticed his actions and smiled slightly before his image left the screen.

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On the prison transport, Rhade was fighting the urge to shoot the source of the voice that was repeating, "Emergency alert. Prisoner escaping." As if he didn't already know that. How many times do the people who program these things think one needs to hear it to know what's going on? But Telemachus resisted and went into the corridor to try and stop Tyr from escaping. He knew he would be too late, but with the way things had been going for him, if he hadn't tried, they would probably accuse him of treason. Not long after he had entered the halls, the maddening mechanical voice brought it to his attention that an escape pod had been launched. Telemachus knew there was nothing more he could do but survive, and for that he needed to find an escape pod for himself. Reigning in his anger at losing his prisoner and soon his ship as well, he went on his search and found himself in a small pod heading away from what was to become nothing more than wreckage. He could hear the blast and see the glowing red and orange light shining from behind him as the transport got blown up just before the Andromeda scooped his pod up.

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Rommie informed Dylan that Rhade was unharmed and told him where the Nietzschean was located, but then stopped suddenly. "Sir… a slip-fighter entered with Telemachus Rhade… No life-forms aboard, but the fighter is in good shape."

Dylan looked over at her, confused. "Get some lancers down there and have them check it out. Wouldn't want anything to happen to our guest, now, would we?"

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Telemachus was already in a pretty foul mood before the lancers appeared, but they managed to annoy him more. But when he left his escape pod behind, he noticed that they were all headed toward a slip-fighter. "What is going on?" he questioned quietly, glancing at a woman dressed in black standing next to him, holding a force-lance.

"That slip-fighter entered with you, but there were no life-forms aboard. The captain has ordered it to be examined… Just in case, of course," the woman replied, sounding sure of herself. It was because of this easy confidence that Rhade didn't question her lack of uniform; it was obvious she belonged. But her tone also got his attention, and he took a closer look at her. Her eyes were a dark blue, edged with gray, and her hair was strangely colored, black with blue and silver streaks running through it, all pulled back by a plain leather strap. He guessed she was about his age, perhaps a year or two younger. She sounded far too authoritative to be of the rank she appeared to be. Rhade filed this information in his mind and decided not to worry about it unless he had to.

"What is your name?" he questioned. He had asked before he had even thought it through, an impulse forming from, he felt, her scent.

A slow smile moved across her silver painted lips, and for reasons unknown to him, it unsettled Rhade. "My name is Silva, Commander. Glad to see you survived." And then she let herself melt into the small group of lancers that were heading back out and soon she was out of sight. Telemachus thought the statement rather odd, and couldn't seem to put the thought away, so he pondered the woman as he walked to meet with the captain.

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Trance had not been expecting this, which was saying something about how much stronger _she_ had become. _She_ being an old friend, one she hadn't seen in a very long time. She excused herself and went to examine the foreign slip-fighter for herself.

When the golden one reached it, she immediately recognized the scent… Something so subtle anyone who didn't already know _her_ wouldn't recognize… well, either someone who didn't know _her_ or a Nietzschean, and even that was near impossible if _she_ didn't want said Nietzschean to smell it.

Trance knew the exact moment that Andromeda was cut off from the area, and could feel amused eyes staring at her back. "Trance Gemini, it's been far too long." The voice was confident and playful, as it always had been.

Trance turned to face the woman. "Or perhaps it hasn't been long enough." She was her friend, but Trance couldn't help but feel something was off.

"I'm hurt, Trance. Really, I am. I thought you would be thrilled to see me," the other woman said as she walked closer to the gold haired woman.

"I get the feeling you did not come here just to catch up on old times." She paused as her friend smiled and closed her eyes, communicating something. "You came for him! No, we need him. I can't have you messing with his mind! We need him well."

"I have not come to harm him, my friend."

"Then why have you come?"

"I have come… to amuse myself with confusing your ship." Trance heard something in the slip-fighter burst and when Trance turned away, she knew she had made the same mistake she made every time. She had looked away. Without turning back, she knew she was now alone. Trance would find her friend again later, hopefully when she was more willing to talk about why she was after Telemachus Rhade and what exactly she wanted from him. Trance had grown used to being aware of everyone around her; had gotten used to _knowing_ things, being powerful among humans. Now she was reunited with a strange creature that defied it all, and always had. Yes, Silva had always managed to confuse even the most knowledgeable.

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Rommie stood next to Dylan in his office, having just received news from the lancers. "I have been informed that the slip-fighter is indeed empty. There are no harmful chemicals or radiation. It seems as if it just appeared, flying itself."

"Well, that's creepy. I want you to run a head count of the crew just to be sure no one slipped past us."

"Yes, sir." Rommie stood in silence for a moment, checking every inch of the ship for an intruder. "Everyone is present and there are no extras. Dylan… if you still have doubts, you might want to ask Trance about it."

Dylan was confused. "Why?"

"Because she's down there right now… Wait…" She opened her eyes and said, "I can no longer see what is going on down there."

"What? Can you communicate with everywhere else?" Dylan questioned, getting to his feet.

"Yes. There is no apparent reason why I shouldn't be able to reach the hangar. But I can't."

"Get someone down there to check on Trance."

As Rommie went to work on it, Dylan sighed. "It's never easy."


End file.
